


In Blood Stepped in So Far...

by Hantastic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Feels, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hantastic/pseuds/Hantastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cautiously holding Will back behind him, Hannibal took his first step outside. The weather was mild but Hannibal’s worst fears manifested when the pungent stench of rotting flesh hit him full on; sweeter and far stronger than before and with his sensitive nose, Hannibal had to muster up every ounce of self respect to restrict himself from gagging.<br/>His mouth set in a grim line.<br/>When things were dead, Hannibal expected them to stay dead. Not doing so was a breach of natural conduct and quite frankly – it was just plain rude.</p>
<p>(I basically just love the idea of Hannibal and Will having to tackle a zombie appocalypse. How will Hannibal like it when people are trying to eat HIM for a change?) It's my first Hannibal fic so please be gentle with me :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Will fumbled with his glasses and ran his hands over his tired face – almost unknowingly trailing the lengthy contours that sleep deprivation and excessive stress had marked him with.

Staring up at him was the mutilated form of yet another victim – her torso disfigured by the insertion of numerous gardening implements (amongst them a trowel near her lower abdomen, a hoe protruding from her left breast down to her right hip fixed with expert precision) but she was still unmistakeably human. The dying terror etched upon her face, haunting her features forevermore showed Will that she’d been alive for the majority of the grisly process.

Will didn’t even have to _look_ to recognise this as the Ripper’s work.

“All right, let’s clear the area!” Jack barked from somewhere behind him. His voice demanded attention but Will refused to look away from the body lying before him. He couldn’t allow anything to distract him now.

“Will, call us back when you’re done.”

Nodding without turning around, Will knelt beside the victim and closed his eyes. He felt himself moving deeper and deeper into the killer’s mind; fighting against the rising panic within, screaming that he wouldn’t be able to clamber back out again. Will pushed it away and forced himself to keep going. This was the only way...  
 It worried him more than he could admit that it was becoming easier to let himself go –becoming easier to fall into a killer’s mind; almost like falling into bed at the end of a long, hard day.

_No. Not like that._

Falling into bed wasn’t easy. The nightmares were never far away.

And this should _never_ be easy either. This should be the most difficult thing he’d ever have to do.

However, the necessity was evident. Will just had to keep telling himself that this helped people; that this _saved lives._

Perhaps someday he’d be able to quieten the voice of reason within that kept repeating at some point, he’d look and never come back.

At some point, he’d lose himself in the turmoil of this madness and become something beyond what even _he_ could imagine.

_I move quickly and silently through the shadows of the night, listening to the clatters of pottery and gentle humming inside the shed. I easily slip inside unnoticed, cupping my target’s throat with my right hand and squeezing to cut off the scream I can feel rising in her oesophagus. She is light and can be moved easily like a ragdoll. Using my spare hand I retrieve the hoe, throw her to the floor and quickly pin her down with one foot. Before she has time to attempt escape I jam the instrument into her chest – sliding it down and out of her other side whilst leaving the vital organs I require undamaged. She can only gasp as the blood rising in her larynx cuts off any louder distress call she may have hoped to make._

_I remove my scalpel and get to work opening up the torso from between the clavicles straight down through the abdomen. Peeling back the delicate flesh, I make my way towards the organs – positioning the rib spreader and cranking it back to reveal the pink lungs within as they move awkwardly out of rhythm, struggling to find a source of air. Wasting no time I remove the lungs, the liver and the spleen. Carefully selecting other assorted tools about the shed, I begin to form my creation – inserting them into the chasm in her chest, jutting out at appealing angles in my tell-tale abstract fashion. No mistake will be made about the artist’s identity. I have left my signature.  
I retrieve the spoon from my back pocket and gorge out her eyes as the life begins to leave them – removing them from their sockets but not breaking the optic nerve as to sever their link to the body. In doing so would completely ruin the artistic value of my piece. Her fading hazel eyes have flecks of soft caramel running through...so delicately beautiful. _

_...Such a shame that she couldn’t match their elegance. She was unworthy of such gifts - true art was wasted on her in life._

_In death, I will not allow her to get away with such criminality._

_I place the supple orbs into my victim’s hands, cupped palms upwards on her chest as the centrepiece. I leave my note folded delicately beneath, retrieve the rib spreader and take my leave with the chosen organs.  
My message shall be received and they will know who I am. They will know not to force my hand again unless they truly want to pay the price. _

_This is my design._

Will stared down in horror at the note that rested in his shaking hands, the true message of its meaning only just beginning to sink in.  
The single word of _‘See?’_ written in light, elegant hand shone out amongst the destruction, penetrating his very soul and wounding him deeper than any knife ever could. The note had to be for him. The full weight of its meaning could only hold significance to him and him alone. Even now he could see the broken image of Garrett Jacob Hobbs threatening to reappear upon the fringes of his subconciousness, eternally looming there even if Will didn’t always see him physically in the room.

“What have you found?”

Jack’s voice sounded right next to him and Will started in surprise. He hadn’t even heard his boss’ heavy footsteps come up behind him; too absorbed in the killer’s thoughts and his own part in them to notice the approach.

“Um, yeah, it’s definitely him.” Will said, replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and pushing them upward to act as a far from comfortable but slightly more reassuring barrier between himself and Jack. Without them Will felt he exposed too much of himself to those around him; especially after being in the mind of a murderer.

He doubted most people would like what they found if he ever allowed them to see too much...

“The Ripper?”

“Yes.”

Jack nodded slowly like this was the answer he had expected, even if he hadn’t wished it to be true.

“What’s he trying to tell us?”

Will sighed and handed the note over to Jack, ignoring the disapproving glance thrown his way due to the evidence tampering.

“The murder itself was to tell us that he’s angry,” began Will. “The cutting is precise but rushed; not as much care or pleasure has been taken out of this kill compared to most of his others – he killed here out of necessity rather than out of passion or compulsion. He’s telling you that you shouldn’t have pushed him with the Gideon article and if we try to do so again, his response will be something far more... _unpleasant._ ”

Jack tried to ignore that in his personal opinion, this was unpleasant enough.

“And the note?”

Will let out a shaky breath before continuing, avoiding Jack’s piercing gaze and trying to look anywhere but his face, uncomfortable under the man’s scrutiny.

“The note is for me.” He said finally. “I think he’s mocking me, trying to draw out a response...”

Will hesitated, unsure whether he should be completely honest with Jack and reveal the true meaning of the note.

“Garrett Jacob Hobbs said the word _‘See’_ to me right before he died.” confided Will, coming to the conclusion that it was best to just get this out in the open.  “I told my class whilst doing a lecture about Hobbs so it’s not like its some big secret but...”

“But you don’t know how the Ripper could have understood how much that word would affect you.” Jack finished; his tone grim as Will nodded in confirmation.

“He knows I can catch him, he knows how close I can get so I think he’s trying to rattle me. Make me lose my grip.”

Jack took a step closer and Will struggled not to flinch. Instead he chose to fidget awkwardly with the corner of his jacket; determined not to show weakness by moving away but unable to feign the appearance of serenity that implied he was unaffected by this advancement (which Will supposed was exactly what Jack wanted).

“ _Will_ you lose your grip Will?” he asked; tone more forceful than it had been previously. Jack was unafraid of Will breaking like most people seemed to be. It would have been refreshing if it wasn’t so damn intimidating. “Because you _can’t_ lose your grip. Not when we’re so close to catching him.”

Jack had been more affected by the Ripper and his hand in Miriam Lass’ disappearance than he wanted to let on. Will knew this, and Will also knew that Jack, at least at the moment, didn’t care how many people he had to break in order to get the answers he needed.

For that reason, Will simply shrugged and rubbed at his face. He was unable to give Jack the response he required and he was too tired to argue.

“I’m fine.” He said, now taking the step back he needed. “Now, if there isn’t anything else...?”

Jack hesitated before indicating that Will was free to leave, seeing that he wasn’t going to get much else out of him today.

As soon as he got into his car Will physically sagged with relief. The note had shaken him far more than he hoped Jack and the others had noticed; he didn’t want their pity.  
He detested the way people saw him as the unstable freak that needed to be handled delicately, that they needed to be wary of. Sometimes Will felt like he was an exotic animal in a cage; curiously prodded and poked but backed away from  whenever he got too close.

 _Always observing but never near enough to be bitten._ The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

When people find something they don’t understand they get scared and break it or they distance themselves so they don’t have to.

Although she’d never admit it, Will knew that even Alana saw him in that way; to a small degree at least.

Anyway, wasn’t that the reason why she’d rejected him?

He grimaced at the memory.

What was it she’d said? They weren’t ‘ _compatible_ ’?

Deep down Will knew she was right but that didn’t make it any less painful.

 Biting back a growl of frustration, he jammed the key into the ignition and drove away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank-you muchly for the positive feedback, it really makes my day :) I've had to sacrifice italics for this chapter due to some font trouble so appologies, I'll try and sort the issue out before I upload the next one if I can. Also no zombies yet but soon, I promise! But there is some Hannigram coming up if that makes up for it in any way, so please enjoy.

“Will,” Hannibal greeted the man warmly as he opened the door, indulging himself with a rare genuine smile. “Please, come in.”

Hands in his pockets, Will shuffled into the office awkwardly and took his regular seat.

“How are you feeling?” Hannibal asked, gently shutting the door and making his way over to the chair opposite Will’s. Over the past few weeks he had gradually been moving the chairs closer together but Will either hadn’t noticed or didn’t mind.

Hannibal was betting on the latter.

“I’ve been better.” Will muttered; a sarcastic bite in his tone that told Hannibal something had deeply upset him although he was desperately attempting not to let its effect show.

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed a fraction – the only indication of the rage bubbling up inside him. Perhaps Uncle Jack had pushed Will too far again and needed to be taught yet another lesson...

“Something troubling you, Will?” he asked calmly, crossing one leg over the other and clasping his hands on his knee as he tried to stop imagining them throttling the life out of Agent Crawford.

Will sighed and removed his glasses – placing them in his left breast pocket and lightening Hannibal’s mood just a little. He adored the way Will now felt comfortable enough around him to take down the physical barrier his glasses put between himself and the outside world. It made Hannibal feel special. Feel valued.

“The Ripper took another life this morning.” Will announced. “I’ve just come straight from the crime scene.”

These words quickly quenched the fiery yet ill-directed fury inside Hannibal and replaced it with a surge of pride and anticipation.  
So Will had received his message.

“You’ve seen much of the Ripper’s work before – what makes this murder so different?” Hannibal prompted. “I apologise for my bluntness but it’s evident that this incident has had an alarming effect on you.”

Will’s eyes flickered up to his own for a fraction of a second as they often did, never lingering any longer.

“Am I really that transparent?” He smirked in a way that seemed broken and bitter.

Hannibal said nothing but continued to look towards Will patiently, his expression an ocean of calm.

Will cleared his throat.

“The Ripper left a note...for me.”

Hannibal practically felt like singing.

“For you?” he inquired instead, subtly tilting his head in apparent confusion.

“Well, he didn’t exactly print my name over the top in big red letters but he might as well have done.” Will grimaced, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck agitatedly. “There was a piece of paper on the victim...saying ‘see’.” Will gesticulated with his hand towards Hannibal. “You were there that day of course...”

“Those were the words Garrett Jacob Hobbs spoke to you just before he died.” Hannibal replied. “And it scares you that the Ripper knows the weight of those words and how often they haunt your dreams at night.”

“He’s trying to scare me off.” Will decided, his tone turning dark. “He’s trying to show me that he will always have the upper hand whether I like it or not and that now...it’s personal somehow.”

Hannibal repressed a shiver of delight.

This was just delicious.

Not as delicious as the Andouillette he’d prepared with Daisy Blanche’s intestines the other night, but it was pretty darn close.

“Does this unfortunate incident make his face any clearer to you?” Hannibal asked, keeping his tone neutral.

Will shook his head.

“I don’t know – this suggests that he’s either been watching me incredibly closely or that he’s someone who has access to the bureau. It could be someone who attends my lectures since I mentioned the whole affair to them but...”

Will looked like he was trying to cling onto a thought he couldn’t quite grasp. It was like the tendrils of something vitally important kept brushing past his face but when he tried to reach out and touch them they’d shy away again –gliding off into recesses of his subconscious. 

He held that look so often now that Hannibal was both relieved and a little disappointed that Will hadn’t figured it all out yet.

Of course, it was dire that Will didn’t discover the Ripper’s real identity – at least not until Hannibal had moulded and sculpted him into something even more magnificent than what he was now. Not until Hannibal had shown Will the true self that lay hidden beneath this shy, awkward exterior.

He considered Will to be unrefined – a diamond in the rough. But Hannibal knew that if he just kept chipping away, Will could be something truly glorious to behold.

Someone worthy of Hannibal’s utter devotion. 

An equal to bestow his attentions upon.

Still, he sometimes couldn’t help but want to take a peek at Will’s reaction as he came to the revelation – savour it’s affect on his brain and his emotions as the terrible knowledge consumed him.

Perhaps it would shed light on Will’s real feelings Hannibal so desperately needed to discover.

Will rubbed at his face again, frustrated as the thoughts faded away once more.

“I don’t know,” he repeated wearily. “I’m finding it difficult to latch onto things right now. The headaches are getting worse and I’m still having trouble sleepin-”

“The sleep-walking has returned?” Hannibal interjected smoothly. His brows furrowed ever so slightly with concern. “I thought I helped you with that and it had stopped.”

“It seems to have made a reappearance.” Another broken smile worked its way onto Will’s mouth. “I found myself in the middle of the forest again last night, drenched in mud and sweat.”

Something warm flowed into Will’s eyes and his expression softened.

“Winston followed me out,” he admitted sheepishly. “So it wasn’t too bad but sleep walking is sleep walking.”

“Indeed...” Hannibal was troubled by this. He had no intention of Will getting himself hurt. “And although your dogs may bring you comfort, they cannot prevent you from getting run down in the middle of the road during your mobile slumber.”

Removing a piece of lint from his trousers, Hannibal uncrossed his legs and moved leisurely across the room towards the coat rack.

“Will,” he said. “I hope you won’t mind but I may have to leave you for a short while– I do apologize,” he swiftly continued when Will looked like he was about to protest. “But I do assure you it is for your own benefit and I shall not take long.”

After adjusting the collar of his coat Hannibal indicated to the office around him. 

“Please, feel free to make yourself at home.”

With another smile Hannibal took one last look at Will’s confused expression, inclined his head and took his leave.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings again - okay, the chapter after next will most definately have zombies, I gurentee. In the meantime however the Hannigram is in full flow so hopefully that will keep you occupied. Thank-you for the positive feedback, it's so kind and makes me feel all fuzzy :) Happy reading!

True to his word, no more than twenty minutes later Hannibal re-entered the office – a heaped bundle resting in his strong grasp.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he said, placing the items on his desk as Will eyed them up curiously.

“Well Doctor, care to explain?” Will asked, moving across the room to take a closer look.

“I decided it might be best if someone watched over you tonight so you can get a decent night’s sleep.” explained Hannibal. “And a change of location has been known to help break sleep-walking patterns.”

Will frowned at the blankets and food supplies.

“I’m sorry...are you suggesting that we have a _sleepover_ in your office?” he said incredulously.

A small smile quirked at the edges of Hannibal’s lips, once again chipping back the detached mask of indiffence he so often wore.

“Why not?” he asked - a hint of amusement working its way into his smooth voice. “I think both you and I would benefit from knowing you have slept comfortably for one night at least. And I wasn’t suggesting; I insist upon the matter both as your friend and as a medical professional.”

“Why the office though – why not your house?”

Hannibal’s smile widened.

“Come now Will – if I were to ask which location you feel safest in apart from your own house in Wolf trap, are you telling me it wouldn’t be here?”

Will couldn’t deny that was true and Hannibal knew it.

“Well what about my dogs – who’s going to feed them?” Will questioned, refusing to yield.

“I phoned Alana on my way out and she agreed that this was a good idea and has promised to care for them in your absence.”

Hannibal seemed to have an answer for everything. It was both impossibly infuriating and incredibly impressive to Will that the man always knew exactly how to get what he wanted out of people.

“Fine,” Will muttered, finally relenting but squirming uncomfortably as he said “but I’m not a teenage girl, I don’t see why this is really necessary...also I um, sweat quite a lot due to the ehem, nightmares.”

Hannibal held up a pair of towels.

“I assure you I have prepared for every possible eventuality.”

 _Of course he has._ _The smug bastard..._

Still, Will couldn’t help but smile. It felt strange to have someone genuinely caring for him in a way that didn’t feel like smothering. Hannibal was there when Will needed him (even when Will didn’t quite know _what_ he needed) and wasn’t afraid to take control – never feeling the need to tiptoe around Will like he was a frightened animal.

Looking at him now, Will marvelled at the unwavering stability and poise in Hannibal that he’d always admired. He was strongly built and lean but held himself with the polished elegance of a ballet dancer – his jacket had been removed and his sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms as he carefully rearranged the items on the desk. His long hands handled the containers of food delicately like precious cargo – gently laying them out along the oak surface and setting the utensils beside them tenderly. It was quite beautiful in its own simple, peaceful way and Will was still smiling when Hannibal stopped to look up at him.

“Will?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

Will shook himself and felt the heat rising towards his face, feeling like he’d walked in on something private.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, struggling to find an excuse. “Um, I see you brought dinner?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said, eyes twinkling with silent mirth like he knew precisely what Will had been doing. He glanced at his watch. “It’s just past seven; I thought that perhaps you may be hungry?”

Now that Will thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. After he’d scrubbed the mud from last night’s escapade off his shins, splashed his face with cold water, gotten changed and walked his dogs he was sure he’d _planned_ to eat something but then Jack had called him into the lab to have another look at some bodies.

And then of course they’d found the Ripper’s latest victim and Will had been unable to stop and catch his breath ever since – never mind eat anything.

As if to prove this point his stomach made a loud grumble of discontent, awakening from a deep sleep now that a source of food had been placed within a five yard radius.

Taking that as a sign of approval, Hannibal indicated to the chair opposite and Will obliged.

The food was good – _really good._ Will was surprised at just how hungry he actually was. Hannibal always cooked delicious meals but this one was particularly divine.

“My god Hannibal,” Will said between mouthfuls. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

Hannibal smiled across at him – evidently enjoying the fact Will appreciated his food almost as much as Will enjoyed eating it. Cooking wasn’t the only thing Hannibal took pride in, but Will was sure it was the skill he valued most dearly.

“It’s nothing really Will, it’s not even warm – just something I put together from left-overs in my fridge. I would have made something more satisfying but I didn’t feel it was right to keep you waiting.”

“No, no,” Will insisted. “It’s great – I was just wondering because it’s obvious cooking brings you joy and I was curious as to where the passion stemmed from.”

Hannibal leaned back as if deep in thought.

“I can’t remember a time when I didn’t appreciate fine dining...” Hannibal mused. “I suppose my peaked interest might have been as a teenager when a local chef took me under his wing and taught me a lot of basic groundwork.” He shrugged; neglecting to mention that said chef had ended up on Hannibal’s dinner plate once he no longer had any use for the vile man. “Since then my desire to please though cooking has been fuelled by my willing associates and friends.”

“Well consider me impressed.” Will chuckled, recollecting his own kitchen nightmares in the past and oblivious to Hannibal’s inside joke. “I can barely boil pasta without setting the house on fire, never mind hold elaborate dinner parties for thirty odd guests.”

Hannibal politely dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

“Well Will, whenever you feel like eating something that doesn’t come out of a packet you’ll always be welcome at my place for a home-cooked meal.”

Will felt as though he should be offended, and if the comment came from anyone other than Hannibal he would have considered it as snarky and condescending. Somehow though, it felt warm and devoid of malice – just a courteous invite from a friend.

“Thank-you.” Will said genuinely, eyes flickering up to the bridge of Hannibal’s nose – feigning the appearance of eye contact for a brief second before turning back to his food.

For some time after this the pair simply sat in companionable silence, even after the meal was finished. With anyone else, Will would have felt the pressure of having to fill it with awkward conversation but with Hannibal no such social constraints applied. He was happy to just sit there and let Will... _be_ which was sometimes exactly what Will needed.

The company so that he didn’t feel forgotten but the silence to allow him to just relax.

“Where are you going to sleep?” Will asked eventually, lying back on the couch at the side of the room as he had been doing so for about an hour now.

The scribbling of Hannibal’s pen paused as he turned his head up to look at Will.

“I was thinking perhaps the chaise longue or I can take the couch if you’d be more comfortable there?” he responded politely. “I will go wherever best suits your needs Will, you have no reason to worry about my personal preferences when this is all for your benefit – although your concern does not go unappreciated.”

“It’s just...” Will bit his lip, unsure how to voice his thoughts. “I don’t want to um, do anything in my sleep to potentially harm you in any way....”

Will rubbed his temples in an attempt to ward away another oncoming migraine.

“I...I don’t always know who I am in my dreams...I’m not always in my _own_ state of mind...”

He struggled to convey the oppressive fear that in his non-waking moments he was becoming more and more like the killers he profiled in his waking ones. Will’s eyes flickered across the room to capture Hannibal’s expression.

If anything he just looked amused.

“Will – you don’t have to worry about hurting me.” He responded calmly, looking at Will in that moment like it was almost _cute_ that he had even suggested such a thing. “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself and I am a light sleeper so this is unlikely to happen anyway, yes?”

Will propped himself up to allow Hannibal to see his full profile of dissatisfaction.

“Hannibal not to be rude but you’re a psychiatrist, not a police officer – I think I have a right to doubt whether you’ll be strictly okay if I get worked up into a... _bloodlust frenzy.”_

Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

“I have ample experience in dealing with unruly patients – or have you forgotten my episode with Tobias some weeks ago?”

Will felt a wave of guilt wash over him as realisation finally hit. He had forgotten actually – he’d been so distracted of late. God only knows how Hannibal must have felt in those moments. He could have been murdered right here in his own office – the office that he had now agreed to spend the entire night in because Will felt _safer_ here than in Hannibal’s own home and yet here was probably were Hannibal felt the most vulnerable.

Will cleared his throat awkwardly and eyed the floor. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t realise - forget I said anything.”

“It’s quite all right Will.” Hannibal said; standing up from his desk and moving over to the pile of items he had brought with him. “It’s good to know that you care but you have nothing to fear.” There was a pause. “...Except, perhaps, appropriate forms of sleepwear.”

Hannibal removed some neatly folded pyjamas from the pile before continuing apologetically.

“I’m afraid I was unable to acquire any of your own garments so I brought some of mine although I am unsure whether they are suited to your tastes.”

Will looked towards the two pairs of silk pyjamas lying side by side – one navy blue with pin stripes and the other plain maroon.  
 Will couldn’t picture himself standing in either of them.

“I don’t imagine this is your usual bedroom attire?” Hannibal chuckled, reading his mind.

“Aha, no,” Will agreed, grinning. “Um...actually I usually just wear a t-shirt and underpants...” he blushed. “...And once I’ve sweated through the shirt usually just the pants – but obviously not tonight,” he hurried on. “Um, I’ll be fine as I am, but ah, thank-you.”

“As you wish but I hope you won’t feel uncomfortable on my behalf – whatever you do or do not wear will be perfectly fine with me.” Hannibal said.

Will imagined stripping off here and now right in front of Hannibal and his all-seeing eyes – blushing a deeper crimson just at the thought.

Pretending not to notice, Hannibal asked if he could be excused to change and Will nodded hastily, throwing him a weak smile after his blunder and rubbing the back of his neck to try and take some of the tension out of it.

_Get a grip Will,_ He scolded, clutching the sides of his head once Hannibal had left the room. _Just look at yourself for Christ’s sake!_

He had a feeling this was going to be a long night...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again - I'm really sorry I haven't updated in a while. I know it's been the holidays but that's still no excuse. I've got exams for the next two weeks though so this may be the last/second to last update for the next fortnight. I'm hoping to get another one up sometime next week but I guess we'll have to wait and see.  
> Thank-you for being ever so lovely and patient though - he's some much promised hannigram.  
> And next chapter...ZOMBIE TIME!

 “Here,” Hannibal said, extending his hand towards Will. Looking up, Will was faced with a steaming mug of brown liquid and the sight of Hannibal dressed in the navy silk pyjamas and his black robe with the thin white trim.

“Tea?” Will asked, accepting it gratefully and trying not to stare at Hannibal’s uncharacteristically bare feet.

“For your headache.” Hannibal explained, moving the nearest chair around so he could perch upon it whilst facing Will.

“But I didn’t say I...”

Hannibal gave knowing him a look and Will trailed off, cradling his mug and sipping it gently. Frowning, he looked down in puzzlement.

“Is there something in this?” he inquired.

“A mild sedative - to help you sleep.”

Will looked up at him uncomprehendingly.

“Are you _drugging_ me Doctor Lecter?”

“I’m merely helping you get the rest you deserve.” Hannibal replied innocently. “Don’t you trust me Will?”

Will mumbled something indecipherable but continued to sip the tea and blow it quietly, which Hannibal happily took as a satisfying answer.

Sometime later, Will still hadn’t drifted off to sleep. His mind wouldn’t relax – re-running the Ripper’s crime scene over and over again on a ceaseless loop. In the end he’d become so restless that he’d begin pacing the office, trying to comprehend how the Ripper could have possibly known  precisely where to prod him in the most painful way possible.

Hannibal had decided to leave him to it. There was no use pushing Will at this point – it would only make him worse. The sedative seemed to be having no effect on him and Hannibal doubted that even with his powers of persuasion Will would be able to rest until he’d worked through some of the theories going around in his head.

With nothing else to do, Hannibal had picked up a book and absorbed himself in it – only flickering his gaze up every now and then to make sure Will was alright and wasn’t pacing holes into his floors.

The footfalls came to an abrupt stop.

“Will?”

Hannibal raised his head from his book but Will didn’t notice – his eyes staring straight ahead at what Hannibal knew was certainly the ghostly image of Garratt Jacob Hobbs. Will’s breathing had become elevated and he’d broken into a cold sweat – his hands twitching nervously as he stared down his fictitious opponent.

 _Or perhaps,_ Hannibal contemplated. _He believes he’s facing his true self._

“Will?”

Hannibal moved over leisurely so as not to spook him. He gently placed a warm hand on his shoulder and tempted to rouse the man from his hallucination.

No such luck.

Hannibal strongly gripped Will’s shoulders with both of his hands – not enough to hurt him but enough to demand attention.

 _“Will.”_ He tried to focus Will’s unseeing eyes on his own. “Listen to my voice, tell me where you are.”

“ _Tell me where you are Will.”_

Hannibal applied a little more pressure and Will gasped – taking in a deep shaky breath that he had been holding for so long. He blinked frantically as he came back to his surroundings, starting a little at the fact that Hannibal’s face was now only centimetres away from his own.

And Hannibal also didn’t seem to have any intention of pulling back.

“Tell me where you are Will.” Hannibal repeated. “Go through what we practiced.”

“I uh, my name is Will Graham, it’s uh....”

“Nine thirty.”

“It’s er, er, nine thirty and I am in Dr Hannibal Lecter’s arms– _office!”_ he blurted out too late.

 “Hannibal Lecter’s...office.” Will finished dumbly.

Will’s efforts to avert his gaze to anywhere but Hannibal’s fell flat; made pretty much impossible by the close proximity between them.

A small smile quirked near the corners of Hannibal’s slender mouth.

“Your first answer would have also been acceptable.” He breathed; making Will repress a shiver as Hannibal’s hot breath left goose bumps on his exposed neck.

“I didn’t know how exact you wanted the location to be.” Will rumbled back in response, knowing that Hannibal was sure to hear the stampede of his beating heart.

What was he doing?

And why hadn’t Hannibal pushed back yet?

And why didn’t Will want him to?

A predatory gleam now appeared to be lurking somewhere behind the kindly mask of Hannibal’s eyes – so close to the surface yet unable to emerge from the depths of his being.

It was because of Hannibal’s strict control, Will realised. Control that Hannibal always held over his body and mind (and now that Will was admitting it, perhaps over _his_ body and mind also).

He just seemed to have that impossible effect on people – that impossible charm.  Hannibal could slink past your countless defences undetected but when you finally realise he’s there, it’s too late to remove him; he’s already settled down with a book and a glass of wine and you just have to accept him.

Will wanted Hannibal to lose that control.

He wanted to _make_ Hannibal lose that control.

Before he knew what he was doing, an animalistic growl forced its way out of Will’s throat – taking both he and Hannibal equally by surprise.

“Will?” Hannibal asked; sounding infuriatingly calm. “Are you feeling al-”

Pulling Hannibal forward, Will crashed their lips together in a mad tangle of passion and desperation – taking immense satisfaction from the brief pause Hannibal took before responding to the kiss, gladdened that he’d shocked the psychiatrist even if this victory was only miniscule over the dominant man.

The pair stopped for a second to catch their breaths and Will chanced another look into Hannibal’s eyes.

Gone was the cool, calm mask of smooth marble that so often guided his features – here replaced with something far more feral.

_Far more hungry._

Wasting no more time, Hannibal snarled and shoved Will back up against the office wall; ripping at his plaid shirt like he’d wanted to claw it to pieces ever since Will had walked into the room. Will gasped as Hannibal nipped a trail of lustful bites down from his jaw line to his collarbone – the bruises already beginning to form marking Will as his property, claiming him as his own.

“C- _Christ Hannibal,_ ” Will panted as he struggled to keep himself upright. “No wonder you keep yourself so in check if this is what you’re like when you lose control.”

Hannibal froze.

And just like that, the shutters were back down.

Removing his lips from Will’s neck, Hannibal regarded his patient with an unwavering look of complete indifference – still close in physical terms but drawing back emotionally behind that marble mask he wore so well: the mask that protected him.

The mask that sealed away whatever dark desires may lie beneath the charming and helpful psychiatrist’s immaculate form.

And for this Will felt a deep twinge of regret, although he didn’t truly wish to think about why.

“I want you to tell me if there’s anything I’ve done wrong Will,” Hannibal said evenly, meeting his eyes and searching them. “If you want me to stop-”

Will laughed shakily.

“No – _god no,_ Hannibal, I...”

Will didn’t move his gaze away this time. He moved his hands to Hannibal’s neck and held him there – almost afraid that the doctor would walk out and leave him in this fragile state; ruffled up against the wall struggling with his inner turmoil.

“I just never realised how much I’ve _needed_ this.”

Will blushed furiously and lowered his head.

“How much I’ve needed _you.”_

Hannibal’s heart leapt as he saw the raw honesty in Will’s expression. Needing no further encouragement, Hannibal gave into his instincts and continued with his unfinished work – kneading his left knee between Will’s legs and rubbing on his now extremely prominent erection.

Will moaned and tilted his head upwards exposing his neck in submission, bucking and grinding against the Doctor with a turbulent need.

Hannibal nearly laughed with triumph.

Will’s eyelids fluttered as Hannibal ran his fingers over his now exposed chest – their warmth making him shiver with longing. He then realised with horror that Hannibal was still fully clothed and attempted to tug off his robe. He needed to cling onto something purely Hannibal – he wanted to lavish his scent, to devour every ounce of it until all he could breathe in was Hannibal’s intoxicating aroma.

“Shhh, patience dear Will,” Hannibal chuckled, helping Will in his struggles and discarding the robe on the desk before guiding him over to the chaise longue.

Giving him a gentle push Hannibal sprawled Will onto his back and took in the glorious sight – Will’s hair was delectably tussled and his face flushed with heated longing. His exposed chest moved up and down rapidly; pupils dilated with anticipation.

Hannibal tilted his head fractionally, lapping up the illustrious sight with his eyes.

He could have stared at him like that all night.

Will however, did not have such plans.

“Hannibal...I...” he looked hesitant, like he couldn’t quite push through the final social boundary restricting him from voicing his urges. “I...”

Hannibal pointed his chin upwards. He knew how hard it was for Will but he needed this final act of submission before he could allow himself to do anything more.

“I need you to say it Will.”

Will’s gaze turned steely with determination.

“I need you _inside_ me.” He groaned with an uneven twinge to convey his dire urgency.

Hannibal inclined his head, polite as ever.

 “As you wish.”

Hannibal moved towards Will with an infuriatingly slow speed – savouring the look of impatience strewn across his face as he dragged the journey out as much as possible.

Unable to stand it any longer, Will growled with frustration and grabbed a fist-full of Hannibal’s shirt, dragging him down to eye-level (Hannibal almost purred at the sight of Will’s irises darkened with lust).

“Didn’t you hear me Doctor?” Will snarled, looking more murderous than Hannibal could have ever dreamed. “I said I wanted you inside me so could you please _hurry up and_ _get on with it?”_

Every nerve in Hannibal’s body buzzed in appreciation as Will aggressively forced his tongue inside his mouth – wanting to discover every bit of Hannibal, wanting to explore and conquer every nook of his fine body.

Hannibal _liked_ this side of Will.

_He liked it a lot._

“I believe we’re going to need some supplies,” Hannibal muttered into Will’s flesh – tongue forking out to lap up the taste of that fevered sweetness clinging to his skin.

“You mean you’ve got stuff?” Will groaned, arching his back to press himself closer to Hannibal. “Like – in here?”

“Didn’t I tell you I’d prepared for every possible eventuality?” Hannibal hummed with a hint of amusement as he pulled himself back despite Will’s mumbles of protest. “No – stay there, I’ll be just a minute.” He commanded and Will, of course, obliged.

Moving over to the draw, Hannibal slid it open to remove a packet of condoms and a bottle of lube. Of course it had been partly wishful thinking when he’d placed them there for easy access (Hannibal hadn’t just brought them tonight, they’d been lying in his draw mere weeks after Will and he had started their sessions together) but Hannibal had always known that the longing look in Will’s eyes hadn’t been imagined.

And of course, he’d never for one second doubted his power of manipulation over the special agent.

It had always been a question of _when_ rather than _if_.

Eyes crinkling with satisfaction, he took the items and shut the draw.

“Will, I hope-” Hannibal paused mid-sentence as he turned around to see Will, sound asleep on the chaise longue – partially still sprawled out, partially curled up into a warm ball of cosiness Hannibal likened to that of a dog.

He looked positively angelic.

It was hard to think that just moments before he’d been trying to rip Hannibal’s clothes off with his bare teeth...

Hannibal felt a beaming smile growing on his lips. He supposed he should feel disappointed but, he honestly felt like he was glowing.

Putting the lube and condoms back in the draw for safe keeping, Hannibal took one of the blankets, unfolded it with a flourish and laid it out across Will – unable to stop himself from caressing a loose curl from his forehead in the process. Grabbing his own blanket, Hannibal moved a chair around and sank down into it – snuggling down to spoil himself with the rare pleasure of watching Will sleep peacefully; safe and sound even within the realms of his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soorrrryy, smut isn't my forte particularly (I'm much more comfortable with gore so watch this space) but thanks for sticking through that. And I'm also a bit of a tease I do apologise ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Um, sorry I know it's been a while. I've had mocks the past week or so and I've been kinda drowning in a puddle of sorrow over the disaster that is physics and crying over my iminent doom when the results come in...  
> Still, thank-you for bearing with and as a reward here's an extra long chapter finally with some zombies.  
> Thanks for all the wonderful feedback and I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Hannibal noticed it first.

It was the smell that got him. A putrefying stink that woke him as soon as it entered the room – the alarming stench of rotting flesh invading his sanctuary like an unwelcome house guest.  

Scanning the room for the source, Hannibal lifted the blanket off himself and stood beside Will protectively.

And then he saw him.

_Garrett Jacob Hobbs._

Standing in the doorway; milky hollowed eyes staring right at Hannibal and Will from across the room. His skin was sallow and pasty – loosened through the inconvenience of death, hanging pathetically off his body like an ill-fitting suit.

Hannibal regarded the man with a mixture of disgust and disbelief – the only hint of surprise being the slight raise of his eyebrows as Mr Hobbs swayed unsteadily on his feet.

Was Hannibal hallucinating?

He severally doubted it. He may be a mass murderer but Hannibal was certain that even taking his own biased opinion into account, he was one of the sanest people he’d ever come across.

No. There must be some other explanation, he just hadn’t figured out what yet.

A mumble from behind made Hannibal turn from the awful sight. Will was rousing from his slumber – stretching out and curling up his toes in a cat-like fashion before blinking up at Hannibal sleepily, a wide grin emerging on his regrettably adorable face.

“Hey,” he croaked, sounding groggy but content. “Sorry, did I doze off...”

Something subtle in Hannibal’s demeanour must have triggered a response in Will’s brain, because his lovely expression of happiness quickly turned to one of concern.

“What’s wro-”  

At last Will’s eyes reached the still form in the doorway and the words caught in his mouth.

Panic flooded into his features as his previously relaxed body stiffened like the dead man before him. The fear building within slackened his jaw and turned him ghostly pale.

“Hannibal,” he eventually choked out. “I...I can see him again.”

Clearing his throat, Hannibal tried to figure out how to approach the subject delicately. He considered lying to Will but dismissed the idea almost as soon as he had it – who knew what was going on and he couldn’t afford to lose Will’s trust now. Not when Hannibal’s own grasp of the lines between appearance and reality may be beginning to blur.

“Will,” he said calmly. “I don’t wish for you to be alarmed but...I can see him too.”

Horrified gaze wandered back to Hannibal, Will searched the eyes of his psychiatrist for any indication of a lie.

He found none and that terrified Will more than he thought anything ever could.

“Y-you...r _eally?!?”_ Will finally recovered the use of his limbs and jolted upright; scrambling back to increase the distance between he and Hobbs as much as possible. “But...but how is that even...?”

“I was just trying to come to conclusions about that myself...” Hannibal murmured thoughtfully.

_“And how’s that going for you?”_ Will’s voice had gone an octave higher than usual, Hannibal noted. It may have amused him under better circumstances but as they were he felt that may be highly inappropriate and more than a tad impolite.

“Will, I would like for you to get behind me now please,” Hannibal said smoothly, refusing to respond to Will’s sarcasm.

Will shook his head violently.

“This isn’t happening,” he muttered, wringing his hands like a madman as he tried to cheat himself out of this sick reality. “T-this _can’t_ be happening, this is impossible.”

A less patient man than Hannibal may have snapped at this point, but as it happens, Hannibal was nothing if not patient.

“Tell yourself what you must Will,” he replied, trying to ignore the fact that Hobbs had now begun a sluggish advance. “But if we’re going to get out of here alive I would strongly advice you do exactly as I say, yes?”

“You’re in no fit state to think clearly right now,” he continued when Will didn’t respond immediately. “Let me serve as your guide and then we can figure this out together.”

Will took another second as Hobbs moved steadily closer but then, with one small, sharp nod in Hannibal’s direction, took a few steps backwards and hovered just over the doctor’s shoulder.

“Thank-you Will,” Hannibal hummed pleasantly.

And then he picked up the chair next to him and flung it straight at Garrett Jacob Hobbs.

Will could only gawp.

 Hannibal had picked up that chair like it weighed nothing more than a cushion - lobbing it full force without even a whisper of discomfort. And yet Hobbs was now splayed out beneath it, grunting and groaning with effort as he weakly attempted to lift the dead weight (pun intended) off himself.

He did suppose that Hannibal had the advantage of actually technically still being _alive_ but still...

“Come, Will,” Hannibal said, grabbing Will’s hand in a grip not tight enough to hurt but which also said _there’s no way I’m letting you go_ and walked briskly from the room.

Hannibal _walked_ from the room _._ He didnot _run_.

 But Will was beginning to doubt that men like Hannibal ever ran from anything.

Hannibal dragged a dazed Will through the rest of the building with alarming speed; never once slowing for anything so by the time they’d reached the entrance, Will was surprised to find he was out of breath (although he supposed his stifling terror could be held partially accountable for that).

Hannibal tentatively flexed his fingers gripping the cool steel door handle. When he opened this door, the question of the scale of their dilemma would be well and truly answered.

As an optimist, Hannibal wanted to assume Hobbs was a one off curiosity, much like Will or himself, and that the scene awaiting him outside would be a relatively mundane one with nothing untoward to report other than the regular stains on society that humans inflicted on a daily basis.

 As a realist however, Hannibal also deemed that highly unlikely.

Cautiously holding Will back behind him, Hannibal took his first step outside. The weather was mild but Hannibal’s worst fears manifested when the pungent stench of rotting flesh hit him full on; sweeter and far stronger than before and with his sensitive nose, Hannibal had to muster up every ounce of self respect to restrict himself from gagging.

His mouth set in a grim line.

When things were dead, Hannibal expected them to _stay_ dead. Not doing so was a breach of natural conduct and quite frankly – it was just plain rude.

“What’s out there?” Will whispered from behind him. _Very_ closely from behind him, Hannibal pointed out – he could feel Will’s breath tickling the side of his neck in a not too uncomfortable fashion.

“Not very much by the looks of it.” Hannibal replied, scanning the deserted streets for any sign of movement.

Cars had been abandoned in the middle of the road as forgotten vessels – most of the doors left open suggesting a hurried escape in the midst of panic. Truly, Hannibal was surprised he’d slept through it all (being a light sleeper and all that).

He supposed the uncharacteristic cocoon of sentiment he’d wrapped himself in last night may have given him a significantly tactless disadvantage.

_It’s almost as if I’m going ‘soft’._

The idea almost disgusted him even more than the smell wafting in from outside.

His car was right out front. As of yet, Hannibal had not spotted a living (or dead) soul out on the streets, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

Will started retching behind him. Hannibal whipped around just as he regurgitating the contents of his stomach into a miniature palm tree plant pot in the foyer they were standing in.

Hannibal politely averted his gaze while Will did so, knowing that the man was feeling far too ashamed already without further adding to the spectacle by watching or asking him if he was alright; which would be equally tedious and condescending as he quite blatantly wasn’t.

Instead, when he was finished, Hannibal removed his handkerchief from his left breast pocket and handed it wordlessly to Will.

Mumbling an apology, Will dabbed at the sides of his mouth feeling mortified. As soon as the smell had hit him he’d felt it – that churning inside as his physical form turned against him. Whilst Hannibal scanned the area, calm and collected as always – not at all phased by the stench or the dilemma they were in as a whole – Will had been struggling to merely stand up properly and force back the acidic bile slowly rising in his oesophagus.

The stinging in his throat made it tinged and raw – making it difficult to speak and filling his eyes up with water. His legs were shaking, he noticed without enthusiasm and he hoped his breakdown wasn’t hitting a tipping point.

A zombie apocalypse probably wasn’t the best time for his mental health to take yet another nose dive.

“If you’re ready Will, I think we should perhaps attempt to reach my car now if you are feeling up to it?” Hannibal questioned, once he felt Will had recovered.

“No one’s out there?”

“Not yet, no – and I’d like for us to leave whilst it remains that way.”

Once Will nodded, Hannibal automatically went to reach for his hand but then checked himself. He hesitantly attempted to reach eye contact for a sign of approval.

Blushing furiously, Will’s head jerked again and Hannibal smirked.

Slowly but surely, it seemed Will was becoming more compliant to Hannibal’s demands.

_Excellent._

Hand in hand, the pair warily stepped out into the barren street – Hannibal leading them briskly down the steps and unlocking his car electronically along the way.

Something yanked Will and he let out a yelp of shock. The steely grip tightened around his ankle as a middle-aged woman dragged herself out of the bushes and closer to her victim – bloodshot eyes deranged as her mouth opened and closed like a blubbering fish as she struggled to take a bite out of Will’s juicy flesh.

_Crunch._

The woman moaned as her radius snapped under the weight of Hannibal’s foot. The significant amount of pressure he applied caused her no pain but surprised her for just long enough for Will to break out of her grip and kick her in the face.

As she recoiled, the men clambered into the car and slammed the doors shut.

Hannibal turned the key into the exhaust and began driving away from the awful scene behind them – the further he went, the more cars he had to swerve around, the more people they began to see crowding the streets.

...From the looks of it, all of them were dead.

The unmoving ones were just piles of strewn guts and blood –organs unceremoniously dragged out of torsos like party streamers spilling out across the concrete. Will noticed with sickening dread that a few of the more indistinguishable piles were still being devoured by the moving dead.

And the rest seemed to be eying up Will and Hannibal.

_Hungrily._

“Will; I think it would be wise if you attempted to contact Alana and Abigail,” Hannibal said suddenly. “I’m beginning to worry about their safety.”

Will’s attention was drawn back by this stark revelation. It was like cold water thrown down his back.

_Oh my god, Alana._

She hadn’t even crossed his mind.

_“Oh Jesus,”_ Will breathed, diving for his phone as he feared the worst.

_3 missed calls from Alana Bloom._

_Last call 5.30am._

Will looked at the time.

_6.07am._

Will jammed the second speed dial button and listened to each ring with rising terror, dreading the worst.

Ring ring.

_What if she’s already dead? What if in her last moments I was sound asleep whilst she screamed as her abdomen was clawed out by feasting demons?_

Ring ring.

_She could have died sobbing out my name, begging for me to save her; for anyone to save her._

Ring ring.

_What if she’s still clinging on to the edges of life now – organs splattered out around her as she writhes around in her pooling blood, ragged breaths choking out as she feels the life leaving her bod-_

_“WILL?!?”_  

Alana Bloom’s panicked voice crackled down the telephone and it was the most angelic thing Will had ever heard. Relief washed over him like a balm.

“Alana,” he choked. “Alana, a-are you all right?”

“All right’s stretching it a bit far,” Alana quipped back, a bark of laughter breaking through in her reassurance that he was still alive. “Where are you?”

“I’m with Hannibal, we can come and pick you up – _tell me where you are.”_

“Jack’s house – I’m with him, Abigail and Bella but-”

Something crashed down the phone and Will heard a scream that sounded remarkably like Abigail’s.

_“Oh god, oh god, they got in,”_ Alana sobbed, her quickened breaths audible down the phone. _“Oh god Will, oh god, I-”_

The line went dead.

_“Alana?”_ Will cried in vain _. “Alana!”_

The phone dropped out of Will’s numb fingers with a dull _thud_ as the metal car closed in around him. His chest constricted painfully like someone was holding it there – an invisible python slowly squeezing every ounce of air from his lungs as he gasped anxiously in desperation. Black dots clouded his vision and he felt like he was falling off a precipice into something dark and unknown. He was drowning, he was spilling, he was slipping away from all that he knew to be human...

And then, something was tugging him back. A distant voice drifting in from a far-off place. A voice trying to bring him home – a voice that meant hope and safety. A life raft for Will to cling to in the crashing waves of his tempestuous mind.

“Will? Will can you hear me? You need to breathe; can you do that for me?”

There was that voice again. Closer this time. Will couldn’t quite recognise it yet – there was too much else swarming around his head; Garrett Jacob Hobbs’ dead, knowing eyes staring into his very soul, the gawping fish woman – her yellowing skin scabbed and mottled with sores and she dredged herself closer to him, Alana’s throat slashed as she begged for mercy as Will’s blade sung across her sweet, supple flesh-

_“Will.”_

That voice – a deep rumble with just a hint of a European accent. The charm-filled hold that voice had over him was both daunting and reassuring and Will wasn’t sure why. There was something he was missing...something important...something...

 Will felt his breathing slowing down and the fog from his vision beginning to clear. He concentrated on lifting his diaphragm on inhaling, and exhaling. In and out...in and out...

The rumbling hum of the engine thrummed in his ears once more and Will blinked frantically as the black spots gradually began to fade. He turned to Hannibal  whose features were clouded with as much concern as Hannibal ever allowed himself to reveal.

“Have you recovered?” he asked Will, eyes glancing away from the road periodically to examine him. “I was beginning to worry I’d have to pull over which perhaps wouldn’t be the best idea at this very moment in time.”

He inclined his head to the curious zombies lurking on pavements – scanning the car with ravenous eyes.

“W-we,” Will took a deep breath, trying to stop shaking. He adjusted his glasses and removed the pill bottle from his trouser pocket – throwing one back and dry-swallowing before he continued.

“We need to get to Jack’s house.” He finished, thankfully sounding a lot more stable than he felt.

“Already on our way.” Hannibal replied smoothly. “I believe we should talk about other matters right now however, as I don’t wish for you to have another panic attack. At least not until I feel we are in a more secure location.”

Will barked a disjointed chord of laughter.

“We’re in the middle of a zombie apocalypse Doctor Lecter – other topics of conversation may be rather limited!”

Hannibal gave him a steady look.

“Well we can discuss last night when you started mindlessly tearing at my clothing, if you wish.” He suggested.

Will flushed and the beginnings of a smile twitched at the corners of Hannibal’s lips.

“I, um, I don’t know what – I mean I erm,” Will scratched the back of his neck in humiliation. In all the confusion of this morning last night seemed like a dream. To be honest, up until this moment he hadn’t even been sure if any of it had actually _happened_ or not. “I’m sorry about the um, I don’t know what came over me-”

“You know precisely what came over you.” Hannibal countered calmly. “Your suppressed feelings about me emerged in the light of an intensely vulnerable moment and washed over you all at once – causing an abrupt passionate outburst on your part and soon afterwards an equally passionate one from myself despite the fact I have never hidden my own feelings towards you from myself like you evidently have about me.”

Will blinked at him in shock, looking utterly flummoxed.

“I...I – what now?”

Hannibal smirked.

“The emotional build up inside you burst like a dam Will – not that I’m complaining of course. I found the whole experience quite enjoyable...it’s a shame we never got to finish the job though – I can’t say I haven’t imagined fucking you across my desk while you beg for my touch; screaming out my name in a maddened fit of desire.”

Hannibal preened as Will’s face practically turned purple with embarrassment; fidgeting awkwardly with his ripped shirt as he struggled to formulate an appropriate response.

As much as seeing him squirm was amusing (and dare he admit it delightfully endearing) Hannibal would unfortunately have to save Will the trouble. Now, there were more urgent matters to attend to.

“Will?”  
“Hmm?”  
“We’re here.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know it's been ages. A ridiculously long time in fact and I have no excuses other than that I really have had a lot going on this past month, it got pretty bad to be honest. But I have returned, if you'll still have me of course. Here's the next chapter, if anyone's still stuck around then I hope you enjoy it :)

The front door hung open and the first floor windows were smashed. It was evident, however, that the break-in was over or that everyone was dead by the eerie silence that smothered the house.

Will’s breathing began to quicken again and Hannibal wondered if exposing this to him was the best idea. As much as he’d love to pry Will open and see what lay inside as he crumbled, right now Hannibal needed Will focused as ever if they were going to survive this thing.

As Will lead the way inside, Hannibal realised he was still barefoot. Coarse gravel dug into his feet and he fought a grimace against the uncomfortable sensation - making a mental note to avoid kicking any zombies in the face until he’d acquired some appropriate footwear.

At least from his knowledge, being bitten by a zombie tended to hold unfortunate consequences. Consequences Hannibal didn’t want to consider.

Will pushed the door further open and removed his gun from its holster (thankfully still on him since he’d come to Hannibal’s office straight from work the previous day). The coppery air of recently spilled blood wafted its way into Hannibal’s nostrils – involuntarily closing his eyes to savour it for a brief second. There was fresh death here; that much was obvious but the underlying tinge of something he likened to overripe fruit told Hannibal that it was paired with the older, less appealing odour of rot and decomposing body matter.

Hannibal was almost certain now that they were too late. The scent was too strong – the telltale flair of Will’s nostrils indicating to Hannibal that he too could detect the unwelcome aroma.

And yet still, this man, this _impossible_ man desperately clung to hope. A necessary comfort blanket wrapped about his shoulders to ward off trepidation.

Hannibal couldn’t bring himself to remove it so he remained silent – keeping his thoughts to himself.

“ _Alana?”_ Will’s fearful whisper echoed around the barren hall. _“...Jack? ...Abigail?”_

 _Yes._ Hannibal decided. _He has to check._

Will turned and indicated that he sweep the ground floor as he scoured the first. Hannibal bristled at the thought of splitting up but understood the necessary course of action if they wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Entering the living room the smell of blood became much stronger. Hannibal closed his eyes and fought back a sigh. This scent was fresh and sweetened; nothing like the ungodly stench those _creatures_ carried with them.

No, this was something quite delectable. Considering himself a connoisseur, Hannibal knew he could identify a person by scent alone.

_Cinnamon, cherry blossom and rose water._

Ah yes, Hannibal knew that scene far too well.

Curiosity piqued, he padded in almost silently, scanning the area for the source.

Behind the settee he found the culprit.

Or rather, what was left of her.

Alana Bloom’s perfectly formed, unblemished face was frozen in a look of pure terror. Her glassy eyes, wide and unseeing, seemed to find his face and plead, as if there was something Hanibal could do to rectify her untimely end. Contrastingly, her features were tense – taut lines of fear cracked porcelain skin like imperfections of a china doll. Pale lips parted mid-cry seemed to omit a silent scream about the room; a mere echo of events not long passed.

In her last moments, Dr Bloom had not found peace...she’d found despair.

Hannibal had liked Dr Bloom. He found that they’d been a lot alike. She’d always been well-mannered and courteous, appreciated fine dining and they’d shared a common interest in Will’s welfare (her’s less experimental with a limited tolerance for unorthodox methods perhaps, but still).

Looking down at her now – intestines spilling out from her abdomen like pink ribbons, internal organs ripped from her torso leaving her hollow and incomplete - Hannibal felt a twinge of disappointment.

Good dinner company was hard to come by. Hannibal decided that he might even _miss_ Dr Alana Bloom.

Something curled up in her hand caught Hannibal’s eye. Tilting his head curiously, he stooped down to pry it from her still warm hands. Smoothening out the crinkled note, Hannibal read it with increasing irritancy.

_Will,_

_If you are reading this it means that despite my worst fears you are still alive but I, quite certainly, am dead. In which case I pray that there is not enough of me left to ever come back and if there is I would request that you destroy my remains as soon as possible, no matter how difficult I know it will be for you._

_I have tried to be honest about my feelings towards you but your instability has made this somewhat difficult. I had to push you away every time I felt like pulling you closer and I know how much this hurt you and for that I’m truly sorry._

_I wish we could have had the life we deserved together. I love you Will, nothing will ever change that...I just regret that I never told you in person._

_Yours forever,_

_Alana_

Feeling a sharp stab of rage, Hannibal scrunched up the note again and slipped it surreptitiously under the couch with his foot.

Well, he wasn’t going to miss her that much.

“Find anything?” Will asked from the top of the stairs as Hannibal lightly closed the door on the violent scene.

“Nothing.” He responded, looking up into Will’s frantic eyes with utter serenity. “Although I have not yet checked the kitchen.”

Will nodded and came down to join him. Deciding it unwise to expose Will to Alana’s death at this fragile time and still thinking about the note, Hannibal held his tongue about what he had just witnessed.

There were at least three more possible bodies to be found...adding another to Will’s mental pile might just make it topple. Usually, that may have been a tantalizing prospect but Hannibal felt he had to re-adjust his plans to their current situation.

If there was a God, Hannibal considered him a cruel man. Starting a ‘zombie apocalypse’ as Will had so crudely phrased it right when Hannibal had finally begun to bend Will to his influence was shockingly inconsiderate.

Still, Hannibal supposed he could take this opportunity to make Will even more reliant on him. Once Hannibal had come to understand that Will was of far more interest to him alive than dead, he’d decided that the best way to ensure Will kept his secret (which Hannibal was sure he would discover eventually, no matter how many twisted trails he falsely guided Will along) was to ensnare him; body, mind and soul. To make him utterly dependant on the good Doctor - making sure Will trusted Hannibal and Hannibal alone. Whenever Will’s darkest fears haunted his nightmares, Hannibal would be there to sooth him. Whenever Jack pushed Will to breaking point, Hannibal would be there to put him back together...even if that was only to make sure Hannibal could be the one to smash it all down again later.

It’s like they say:

When life gives you lemons, squirt them in God’s eyes, chop off his head and harvest the meat for a good spicy lemon sautéed steak.

...And perhaps a Tarte au Citron for dessert if there were any left over.

Suddenly Hannibal found he felt rather peckish.

Will meanwhile was feeling thankful his stomach was empty. If it wasn’t he was sure he’d have thrown up its contents again once the sight they met in the kitchen reached his eyes.

Sprawled out on the tiled floor was the still form of Bella Crawford – plum coloured heels dripping with blood indicating efforts of escape had been futile. Her face was obscured by the being hovering over her; shovelling her innards into his mouth like a starved orphan – loud squelching noises and groans travelling across the room as he munched on the slippery, chewy intestines wrangled in his grasp, eagerly squeezing them as a child would a stuffed toy.

Will stood there, mouth agape. Cold terror snaked around and gripped him tight. This was like nothing he’d ever seen, even in his line of work. A shot of pain punched him in the stomach as acidic bile threatened to work its way out of his throat. It took all of his willpower to force it back down.

The munching slowed and then ground to a halt as the man gradually realised he was being watched.

The blank, blood-smeared face of Jack Crawford turned towards Will and Hannibal – remnants of flesh poking out of the gaps between his teeth as he gawked perplexingly.

The tangle of organs dropped from his grasp as he eyed up the newcomers – far more interested in them to consider finishing his meal. Hannibal almost found it laughable that Agent Crawford was as flesh-driven in his dead form as in his living. Jack had already developed quite an affinity for human meat during the past few months thanks to Hannibal’s influence so now he was bound to be practically overcome by his hunger...as had been evident by his careless table manners slurping up his wife’s liver.

 _The same could be said about yourself._ A voice reminded him distastefully in the back of Hannibal’s mind. _One can only imagine..._

He cut himself off there scornfully.

One did not _need_ to imagine.

Hannibal would never become something as revolting as... _that_.

The way people perceived the dietary habits of him and others like him was positively barbaric. Whenever someone mentioned the term _‘cannibal’_ the whole room would collectively hold their breath and eyes would widen in horror – the images of people feeding from raw corpses very much like Agent Crawford had just demonstrated rushing to their minds and their skin would crawl at the very thought of such a thing. No, cannibals were worse than anything – worse than rapists, worse than murderers, worse than terrorists. Cannibals were the scum of the Earth; they did not _deserve_ to call themselves human.

And yet people obsessed over these...’ _zombies’._ Hannibal knew almost nothing about the countless books, TV shows and films based around the things (TV was a rarity and the only books he read were leather bound classics; none of the modern drivel currently keeping the majority of the brain-dead population mildly entertained) but whenever he exited the comfort of his home into the streets of the city, he would often spot greasy teenagers sporting zombie t-shirts, zombie bags, even the odd zombie tattoo and he couldn’t fathom their hypocrisy.

These people practically _worshipped_ these abhorrent creatures...and yet they considered Hannibal to be the _true_ monster?

All of this flashed through his mind the second Agent Crawford’s mouth twisted into a fleshy grin.

“Don’t move Will.” Hannibal voiced in barely a whisper. “Not until I tell you to.”

Will was happy to oblige. Either that or he was frozen with fear, Hannibal did not care for which as long as the command was obeyed.

Will’s mouth felt chalky and dry. Jack dredged himself up to full height and stood like a broad tower over the other side of the room. His presence had occasionally made Will flinch in the past; fearing another harsh word or depreciating remark as Will tested Jack’s patience.

Now, he practically made Will quake with a catastrophic concoction of grief, shock and dread.

Hannibal stiffened beside him as Jack planted one foot firmly in their direction.

“Agent Crawford I really do not think that is wise.” Hannibal said calmly with only the hint of underlying threat.

Still, something seemed to register when Jack paused, contemplating the man before him and sizing him up. Lecter should have been the less intimidating one – pyjama-clad, bare-foot, hair still tussled from sleeping with no hint of blood on his person at all.

And yet...his presence radiated intense warning. The defiant tilt of his chin almost unnoticeable, the subtle darkness in his eyes and the dominant power that came off him in waves was beginning to make Will dizzy, and it wasn’t even directed towards him.

Will frowned. He’d always known Hannibal was very good at getting what he wanted and taking no nonsense from anyone but this part of him was so different to the soft, caring man he was used to.

Will may have even taken a step back if Hannibal hadn’t instructed him to stay put.

It’s a good job he didn’t or else he would have stepped right into the cold, dead arms of-

Abigail Hobbs groaned; pulling his arms back in her vice-like grip – straining to take a bite out of Will’s tender neck. Panicking, Will kicked back instinctively so she stumbled; spinning around to face her just as Jack made a lunge for him.

But Hannibal was quicker – diving through the air like a wild cat, snarling angrily as he collided with the burly agent. Jack faltered but didn’t go down until Hannibal administered a sharp blow between the shoulder blades with his elbow before he could recover. Jack tumbled to the ground with a grunt and Hannibal went to kick him away – remembering at the last minute that he wasn’t wearing shoes. He quickly changed tactics and looked around for an appropriate weapon.

A toaster lying on the countertop seemed like a good place to start.

Hastily unplugging the object, Hannibal knelt down and smashed it repeatedly into Crawford’s thick skull. Again and again the toaster fell until Jack’s movements were limited to the odd twitch. He was wonderfully incapacitated.

Satisfied Jack would no longer hold a threat to them any time soon, Hannibal flicked the hair out of his eyes and turned to Will when-

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

The three gunshots fired in quick succession – each bullet rocketing out of the gun and embedding themselves in Abigail’s forehead.

Her body jolted violently as she absorbed the blows entering her flesh but still she kept coming. Will was shaking and backing away, gun falling from his grasp as Hannibal could visibly see him slipping, the look in his eyes blank, unseeing; tears brimming as he tried to form the words he couldn’t remember.

And still Abigail kept coming. She reached out to Will like a child would a parent, almost lovingly and Will needed to cling on to something, anything to stop him from fading so he moved his hand forward, taking her bloodied hand in his own.

Abigail smiled as she pulled Will into her, getting ready to perform her deadly embrace and take a sweet bite of his irresistible-

A feral growl escaped Hannibal’s lips as he pounced; his features warped into something terrible as he pushed the two apart with a pound of his palms on their chests.

Winded, Will stumbled away in a daze, clarity only just returning to him as Hannibal crushed Abigail’s head between his hands and roared – twisting and pulling it with all his might until it popped off with a definitive _crack._

Abigail’s decapitated body slumped to the floor like a puppeteer had cut her strings.

Will blinked up unbelievingly at Hannibal from his position on the floor; still not sure what he’d just witnessed was real or not. The doctor stood there, panting heavily – Abigail’s dripping head still resting in his fine, strong hands. The same hands he’d used to comfort Will, to caress Will were now holding the body-less head of their adopted daughter – her glazed eyes milky and unseeing; her mouth agape in surprise.

Hannibal dropped it with a soft thud and Will’s eyes remained fixed upon the head as it rolled a little before coming to a rest near Abigail’s trailing arm, still reaching out to Will from across the room.

The awful sight was too much to bear but Will couldn’t bring himself to look away. Here, slumped in the corner of the kitchen, he felt the presence of another beside him and turned to see the grinning form of Garrett Jacob Hobbs bleeding out next to him.

 _“See?”_ He hissed at Will’s ear.

_“See?”_

Shaking violently, Will finally looked up to Hannibal who had been watching him silently for God knows how long – the malice in his eyes now faded to gentle concern and perhaps even...was that caution?

Hannibal’s mask had returned but that didn’t hide the blood splatters over his face and hands, the bloodstains Will couldn’t wash from his mind. The rivets of warm, red liquid he felt himself drowning in – choking as it oozed down his throat and filled up precious air space in his lungs.

Red dots clouded his vision as Will shivered, the breath of Hobbs falling heavily on his shoulder.

But as Will glanced to his side, he found it was no longer Hobbs he was confronting.

The feathered stag watched him with dark, curious eyes like he was a bug trapped in a jar – captured by cruel children and imprisoned for their own sick amusement.

Blood began spilling from its eye sockets, from its ears, from its grinning muzzle as it sneered at Will.

Will who had so much red in his ledger, he didn’t know if he could ever wash it away.

_I am in blood stepped in so far that, should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o'er._

Will let the darkness come to claim him.


End file.
